You can practically hear the dot matrix printer grinding away when looking at these pages!
While in elementary school(Garrettford Elementary was a Great Place to Grow!), I participated in some creative writing classes. Our county schools
also participated in a program/contest called The Young Authors, where every year kids submitted stories they wrote, which were then judged by grade. I loved it and won several times. You can see another of my lil’ stories on my scraps page Scroll to the bottom of the page.
This little book, which I never finished the drawings for all the pages, was from a summer creative writing class. I was likely in 3rd grade at the time. I was really excited when I found this in a box at my parents house. It’s been interesting to see that the themes in my paintings go back so far. Unicorns and skulls.
It’s clear I loved fantasy as a child. My favorite toys were My Little Pony dolls, She-Ra and my Rainbow Brite. This little book was probably a result of watching The Last Unicorn. I also was obsessed with Unico. It was life changing when that came on the Disney channel.
Lotsa squares. Burrows. Flattened crawlspaces.
All these symbols, made of plastic, are populating my studio, photographs and paintings.
I’m putting parts of myself in them. They are reliquaries, produced en masse by Hasbro or Mattel, containing sacred bits of little girl Libby.
I’ve given these pieces to those I love. I’ve left them on doorsteps and beneath pillows. I’ve been like a cat that brings dead birds to her masters.
They are little anchors to drop in another’s life. Sometimes their chains get yanked back.
I’ve left paintings in trees with the hope they’d be found. I’ve left messages with chalk on rocks to be washed away. I’ve made others participate in my scavenger hunt.
When I played with Barbies, I preferred building and designing the doll’s house. I wanted to build the spaces they’d exist in. Maybe I’ve always treated life like a diorama.
Sometimes I dream of toys I lost as a child. And I know it’s just age and allergies, but I imagine the heaviness beneath my eyes is from storm clouds ready to burst.
Every feeling comes with a diagnosis and guilt at it’s audacity. Some of us are just raw and learn to like the sting.
I find myself saying I’m sorry for not containing enough light. Winter is on it’s way, and with it, less sun. That always frightens me. I don’t have enough light for myself to bask in and for sure, not enough to share.
I can feel sad over a painting I haven’t painted yet. It’s like mourning over someone you’re afraid you won’t get to meet. When composing a still life, I hate to use purchased objects. I want to find or be given them. Picked flowers or a gifted bouquet, for the meaning. I want them to have stories and to have lived a life before finding their way to me.
It’s no secret that I like playing with the idea of rabbit’s feet, myths and luck. I was toying with doing an illustration like this for a while, and if you scroll down posts you’ll see a similar sketch in my moleskin.
While looking up rabbit’s feet on pinterest, I found the above pictures and used them as inspiration. It’s a combo of a rabbit, the lucky rabbit’s foot superstition and Japanese Maneki Neko/good luck cats.
I’ve uploaded my Not So Lucky print to Redbubble and Society6. Hope you dig it!